first day of school

that morning:

hair has been thoroughly brushed after months and months of what used to be called knots but more recently had taken on the identifying characteristics of dreadlocks.  i was sure to begin the brushing formalities days in advance, so as to avoid dropping off children with unmistakable cry-eyes on the first day of school.  they were then braided into pig tails for that extra knot-free insurance.  clothing is new and fresh and will never look this good again, so "picture time, children!  instagram!"  they are both wearing heart locket necklaces with photos of me & terry inside (gift from grandma), serving as homesickness extinguishers, in the event...  tummies are full of food that had been prepped the night before, and their lunch boxes overfloweth with deliciousness filled with such fervency it is literally impossible for me to replicate ever again.  i can't.  i will never make a sandwich with more love than i did the night before school.  ever.  this is called first day mania.  soon to be followed by a slightly less than perfect existence.

on our way to school, the anxiousness in the car is almost palpable.

one child has not stopped talking in over 10 hours, save for those sleeping hours, and refuses to let a thought go by without verbal documentation and accompanying nail biting.  "i think i can make friends.  i can make friends easy, right mom?  and i bet there are nice people who go to school here because look at these people (pointing out the window at an elderly couple in windsuits going for their morning walk)- they look nice and i know you said that the people who live around here are going to go to the same school as us.  except, i know they are not going to my school. (cracks herself up.) they aren't in first grade!  they're way too old.  but they're nice looking.  maybe the have kids who are in first grade.  mom!  i think i forgot my lunch!  oh, you put it in my bag.  mom?  how do i know where to go?  i know you said you're going to walk me inside, but i mean, after you leave?  i know i'll be with my class, but what if i'm not because i get lost sometimes.  are there lines?  do i have to stay in a line like i did in pre-k or what?  are there lockers? i know we didn't see any lockers, but how old do i have to be to get a locker?  next year maybe i'll have a locker.  fiona, do you get a locker?... (trailing off)"

the other child sits with her book bag strategically over her shoulders, like a parachute pack, one hand resting on the door and the other hand resting on her seatbelt release button.  it appears that she is planning to jump from our moving car and roll into her classroom.  i activate the child safety door locks as a precaution.  this child has not said anything in over 10 hours, with the exception of a few questions like, "are you sure i'm supposed to be in third grade?" or "what happens if i have to go to the bathroom?  i know you already told me, but can you tell me again?"  she is still silent en route, and i'm pretty sure she has not yet blinked either.

drop off goes smoothly, and neither have a problem saying goodbye.  hand-in-hand, terry and i walk back to the car with mixed emotions.  or should i say, i walk back to the car with mixed emotions.  i'm pretty sure his emotions were tidy and categorized as usual.

that afternoon:

i head to fiona's school first.  from a distance i see a cute recognizable figure with 2 braids still intact, still wearing her parachute pack.  as i get closer, i see what i'd been waiting to see all day- a smile.  and this isn't just any smile; it's the genuine ear-to-ear grin that tells me she had a good day.  and as i pull around the curb, i watch her get escorted by a very well-manicured blonde boy in a crossing guard's belt to the car.  he opens the back door for her and says, "have a nice day, fiona.", and then shuts her door.  clearly, she's on a first name basis with people.  well-groomed people, no less.  friends on the first day?  how wonderful!  i inquire further.

me: "so!?  how was it?!  how was your first day of third grade?!"

fiona: "great."

(steady pause)

me: "anything else?  do you like your teacher?  did you make friends?  did you eat your lunch?"

fiona: "mmm hmmm.  yup."

as i drive to neve's campus, i continue to try to engage with fiona, and she answers me with one word answers each time.  but her ear-to-ear grin isn't fading, and that tells me everything.  as loud as her non verbals were on the way to school, her non verbals are equally loud on our way home.  she's happy, and that's all that matters.

as we pull up at the other campus, i see another recognizable figure.  this one has a fro from the aftermath of letting her braids out.  her shirt is tucked into the top of her panties from behind, and she is talking to some poor unsuspecting first-grade soul who got stuck in the carpool line with her.  a nice man (who was wearing a nude/salmon-ish colored shirt that fiona and i had mistaken for his bare chest and thought to be a very funny and odd sight in an elementary carpool line, but in actuality was a nice shirt up close) helped neve into the back seat, giving the same farewell as the well-groomed blonde boy minutes earlier.

me: "hi!  how was it!?  how was your first day of fir-"

neve, cuts me off: "mom.  i have 5 best friends now.  i can't remember their names, but they are so so nice.  and tomorrow i don't want to bring a lunch because they have this pizza there that has thing bread and cheese and it looks so good.  and guess what?  guess my teacher's real name.  guess.  yeah, lauren.  how did you know?  and my teacher is so young.  she's 29.  can you believe my teacher had a baby and she's only 29 years old, fiona!?"

me: "well, you know i had fiona when i was 23 and you when i was 2-"

neve, cuts me off again: "can we get frozen yogurt?"


they each had such good days, they'd forgotten to look at the photos that grandma had placed inside their lockets.  i hadn't peaked in them either for that matter.  here, after school, they open them up and begin to laugh.  thanks, grandma, for such a thoughtful gift... and for finding the two ugliest photos you could find of mommy & daddy.